


Cogs in the Machine

by flashwitch



Series: POI Fight and Sight [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Fight and sight, Fluff and Angst, Soulmates, allofthefeelings psychic and fighter au, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashwitch/pseuds/flashwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were both broken. They had stopped hoping for anything like this. Only real Fighters got a Seer to take care of. Only real Seers needed a Fighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically the same idea as my Marvel fight and sight stories. t's loosely based on this prompt http://allofthefeelings.tumblr.com/post/131837665460/copperbadge-allofthefeelings-i-just-had-the
> 
> But I have kind of gone away from the whole ghost thing, into a weirder more nebulous psychic and fighter thing. In this version, ghosts used to be more of a problem, but they are pretty well contained nowadays, with teams dedicated to fighting them/exorcising them/helping them finish their unfinished business. And the seers have different abilities that are useful for all kinds of things. There is some variety amongst the fighters too, but no one really talks about that.

His sight wasn’t Ghost Sight -the most useful- or Heart Sight, the most rare. He had Insight. He saw things and he understood them, instantly. Person, object or animal, he saw and he understood. It's difficult to explain to people who haven't experienced it. 

The explosion changed all that. The Ferry Bombing. The bomb was force and pressure and death and it came along with a wave of etheric energy that changed everything. It  _hurt._

When he woke up, he couldn’t see anymore. It was gone. Brain damage, aura damage, something. He still had flashes sometimes, instants of connection, but it wasn’t the same. His eyes still worked but he was blind. 

The Machine was a great help with that. It did not fix him. He didn't need to be fixed. But it was like his wheelchair, and then his cane. It helped. He used it to fill in for where he was broken. It compensates for where he is suddenly lacking.

When he found Reese, The Machine told him that they were the same. That Reese was broken too.

While his own injury had been an accident, a side effect of so much death, Mr Reese had been deliberately neutered. The first time he had been captured on the job, there had been systematic torture followed by break down.

They were not the same.

They didn’t talk about it, how Harold was a blind Seer and John was a defenceless Fighter. They were careful with each other though. When a number came up who was a Seer, there was always a fresh cup of green tea on his desk. When one was a Fighter, Finch watched over Reese with extra care, ensuring he wasn’t in any danger.

It was nice. They were… friends sounded like such an anaemic word for what they were. They were everything to each other. They did not have anyone else. They had both lost so much. They were alone. They were together.

There was something though, a careful space between them. They did not touch each other. There were careful inches, a delicate dance. Harold wasn’t sure who started it. Which one of them was taking care of the other in this oh so cautious way. He thought they both might break the day they actually made contact.

 

* * *

 

It was a brush of fingers. Something so innocuous. It was ridiculous. It was completely unintended and overwhelming.

Mr Reese had come in from a long day with a particularly difficult number. He was bruised and bleeding and insisted on taking care of himself in the most obstinate manner. As Harold was not permitted to assist John in first aid, he instead went and made a batch of rich hot chocolate to fight the cold creeping in both of their bones.

“Here,” he said, and went to put it on the small side table. “Oh.” The first aid kit was in the way. He hovered for a moment, turning one way, then the other, looking for somewhere to set the mug down.

“Thank you, Harold,” Reese said, holding out a hand to accept the mug. Their fingers touched. The space between them vanished in an instant. It was lights coming on in the dark, puzzle pieces fitting together, everything clicking into place and a dozen other clichés. It was wonderful and terrifying. They were together.

“Oh,” Harold said. “Oh my.”

“Well,” John replied, “how about that?”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Things changed and they did not change. They were not magically “cured” by their bond. And they were not suddenly head over heels in love with each other. There was love, of course, closeness that comes with a bond, but neither of them felt lust for the other. What they had was not like that. They didn’t need the ear buds or the phones any more, not with each other. That was nice. They both enjoyed being able to talk to each other no matter what.

Although it was not always easy. Well, the best things never were.

 Part of Harold had wondered -when he wondered about bonding at all, before he pushed all thoughts of finding someone to fight for him away because it hurt too much- about whether a bond would give him back his sight. He had thought maybe... but the world doesn't work like that. His Insight doesn't come rushing back, painting the world in colour, letting him  _see_ again. But for the first time, feeling John's steady thoughts, he thinks it might have all been worth it. 

 

John hadn't wondered about getting his abilities back. He has plenty of ways to fight. He has passed that particular hurdle long ago and he doesn't torture himself with might have beens. He is happy with what is. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Two nights after they bonded, John woke up. If he was anyone else, he would have woken up screaming. If he was his younger self, he would have been sending bright silver energy bouncing around the room. But that was gone now. He wasn't thinking about that.

 As it was, he woke up panting and there was a tremor in his hands. He was alone in a big empty apartment, and the shadows seemed to be watching him. Old scars seemed to ache.

He threw back the covers and stood up, the gun from under his pillow in his hand. He knew no one was in his apartment, but he had to check. _Had to._

_Mr Reese? Is everything… you seem distressed._

_Finch?_

_I’m here._

He still checked his apartment; behind every door, under the bed, in the cupboards…

There was nothing there.

_I’m sorry. Did I wake you?_

_No, I was already awake._

_You know, Harold, it’s impossible to lie through a bond._ He sat back down on the bed, feet planted flat on the floor, hands digging in to the edge of the mattress.

_Then yes. You did wake me. But I don’t mind._

They sat together, in the dark, miles apart and closer than they had ever been.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes Harold still wonders. But mostly he worries. If something happened to John because he didn't see it coming, because he didn't understand... 

John doesn't wonder. But sometimes he... regrets is the wrong word. If he could still Fight, he could protect Harold better. But if he could still Fight, chances were he never would have met Harold. He doesn't think about what he has lost. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling this complete with this chapter but I might come back and play with it some more in the future.

It takes far longer than it should for Harold to realise that everyone thinks they are sleeping together. And fine, sometimes they do sleep together. Just sleep. They both have bad dreams.

But it isn’t good practice. They should not always be in the same place. It leaves them vulnerable

As for sex, neither of them is having it. Not with each other, not at all. Although, John does very occasionally find someone to spend the night with. As for Harold, he just… isn’t interested. He hasn’t been in a long time.

He had never had all that active a sex drive. He has never really felt the need that other people seem to. And he does not love well. His exception in both things, well, she just proves that he was not meant for that sort of relationship.

That’s partly why it took him so long to realise that _everyone_ believed they were having regular sex. It just didn’t occur to him, despite knowing that people tend to assume that bonds mean romance. It just wasn’t something he thought about.

 _Finch? Is this you freaking out?_ Reese asked, his thoughts warm and amused and concerned.

 _Of course not, Mr Reese. What is there to “freak out” about?_ And he meant that, John was (objectively) a fine and attractive man. He was not offended that people thought they were sleeping together or anything so ridiculous.

It was just… strange. To think about.

 _Don’t worry, Harold. I’m not going to jump you._ That warm amused flavour to his thoughts again.

 _As I said, Mr Reese. I am not worried._  And he smiled, because they knew each other fully and better than they had ever known anyone else and he knew that John knew exactly what he meant. They were better together, and sex did not come in to it. People could think what they liked.


End file.
